get lucky
by exosolarmoonlight
Summary: It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a superhero in possession of a beautiful teammate must be in want of a love story. A Ladynoir tale.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: hello, and welcome to my contribution to Ladynoir July! this shhhooould update every few days - please kick me if that doesn't happen -.-;;;**

 **beta'd by the lovely mirthalia!**

* * *

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a superhero in possession of a beautiful (brilliant, sassy, bullheaded, funny, clever, charismatic, magnetic, mischievous, flawlessly flawed—) teammate must be in want of a love story.

No, _really._

('Possession' wasn't the right terminology for his relation to Ladybug, Chat knew, but he hadn't binge-read all those Jane Austen novels last week just to fudge his references.)

Sadly, Ladybug didn't agree.

* * *

"Mission accomplished!"

Ladybug paused for a moment after the ritual, keeping her fist upraised even as Chat let his fall away. Chat, noticing, paused too. Was something wrong?

Her confident grin fluttered, shifted, and solidified into something slightly different. Still a smile, but now holding a quality that made Chat's heart beat double-time.

"...Good job today," was all she said before the odd look disappeared and she turned away, surveying the city.

Chat's stomach flipped over.

The battle had been an easy one. Foam bullets were painless to intercept when one was wearing magic armour, no matter how fast they were fired, and casualties from the fight had amounted to a thick carpet of neon orange "ammunition" on the streets. Even with their strength halved by Power Down's special suction darts, his giant plastic bazooka had been easy to shatter ("Child's play," Chat had quipped, earning a groan and a facepalm from his partner). For once, neither Lucky Charm nor Cataclysm had been used during the course of the fight.

He and Ladybug had _time_.

It was a tantalizing prospect.

"Why thank you, my lady," he said, swallowing his confusion over the comment. Then, because he couldn't _not_ try, he put his hands on his hips and ducked forward. "Good enough for a reward?"

Ladybug blinked, tilting her head curiously. "What kind of reward?"

She... _hadn't_ shot him down?

Confusion increasing, Chat tapped his lips and winked.

Predictably, Ladybug snorted.

Chat gave a little inward sigh of mingled relief and disappointment; he hadn't _really_ expected anything else, but he couldn't deny that her moment of contemplation had planted a seed of hope in his heart. Outwardly, he straightened and huffed, not bothering to smother his grin.

"Not _likely,_ kitty," Ladybug said. She looked back at the mass historical monument that was Paris, ensuring that it was clear of foam. "You're gonna have to work a little harder for _that_."

 _Wait._

 _...'Harder'?_

"Oh?" His vocal chords wavered. Never once, in all of the past two years of working (and flirting) with Ladybug had she _once_ implied that he had a chance. A real, solid, tangible _chance._ His pulse was starting to rattle his teeth and that little seed of hope was growing at an alarming rate. "And what kind of mighty deeds would deserve a kiss?"

She snickered like the noise had been knocked out of her by surprise. "What?"

"What would I have to do to get you to kiss me?" Chat clarified, much too invested to laugh it off. He was going to blow his chance at this rate (if this even _was_ a chance, and not just a case of Ladybug being careless with her words), but he couldn't seem to find the brakes on his runaway tongue.

The grin twitched off her face in awkward, stilted bits, leaving behind a small, confused moue. "Huh?"

Like she _hadn't_ known he'd been in love with her since practically day one.

(Or maybe like she just hadn't expected him to be so desperate.)

( _For fuck's sake,_ cool your jets, Agreste.)

Chat scrubbed the back of his neck, feeling the skin under his mask heat.

" _Oh._ "

The single syllable was wondering, realizing, then _considering_...

And his mouth went bone dry.

"You really want a kiss, _mon chaton_?" There was a dangerous sort of smirk forming around the corners of her mouth, but Chat couldn't find it in himself to run.

One step, two steps, three, and she was in front of him, arms folded low and mischief in her eyes. "Woo me."

It was Chat's turn to wear the small, confused moue, despite the near painful pitch of blood roaring in his ears. "...What?"

He thought he was doing pretty well, forming real words and everything, considering the tone of her voice should have taken him out at the knees.

"I said, if you want a kiss, then _woo_ me, kitty."

Ladybug punctuated the statement with a flick to his bell. Glittering, daring eyes taunted him from beneath thick lashes, and his stomach dropped, flew, _soared_.

She was _giving him a chance!_

Except...

Indignation swelled, helping him pull together the scattered shreds of his composure enough to ask, "What... do you think I've been trying to _do_ for the past two years...?"

(And if that hadn't worked, what _would?_ )

The enchantress dropped away, leaving his mildly confused best friend in her place. It was _almost_ a relief, except she was still only about ten centimeters from his face.

Chat swallowed hard.

"I... uh," Ladybug said, shoulders slumping as she stared at him. "Fffflirt...?"

He stared right back. Slowly, he tilted his head, disbelieving.

"I-I-I mean!" she squeaked, and, to his fascination, going _pink_ under the mask. "You flirt with everybody! What was I _supposed_ to think?"

Disbelief was rapidly becoming offense. "I do _not_ flirt with everybody!"

 _Where the hell did she get_ _ **that**_ _idea?_

"You flirted with _Marinette_ ," Ladybug shot right back, still close with cheeks flushed and eyes flashing and—

 _Fuck._

"E-extenuating circumstances!" Chat choked out, trying to put air back into his lungs.

('Circumstances' being that she was his first friend, she was irresistibly cute, and how was he supposed to just _turn away_ from a damsel in distress? He was a _hero!_ She had nothing on his lady and he really had just wanted to make a good first (second) impression on her - why was _this,_ of all things, coming back to bite him?)

Ladybug narrowed her eyes and _oh god_ that should not have been as attractive as it was.

"A-anyway," he hurried on before Ladybug could draw out every embarrassing detail and kinkshame him over his hero complex. "What else could I _do?_ Buy you flowers on my way to an akuma attack? It's not like we see each other any other time."

 _That_ got her.

Ladybug opened her mouth, shut it, considered, opened it, and shut it again. An array of micro expressions flitted across her face before she seemed to reach a decision.

Chat waited with baited breath.

"All right..." she drew out slowly, tipping her head to the side with a look that was about 30% coquettish, 70% smug, and 100% of the reason why he could no longer feel his legs.

He was _so_ screwed.

"You want a kiss, kitty?" she asked, low and rich and smooth, in a timbre that skipped over all higher thought process to arrow straight to his hindbrain. "Woo me."

As broken as his thoughts felt at the moment, some part of him was cognizant enough to shout _didn't we_ _ **just**_ _go over this?_

Ladybug pressed a slim finger over his mouth before he could open it, and then he was preoccupied with the fact that she was _touching his lips._ "Thirty days."

Chat blinked. Even half-stupefied he could tell that that was a little out of the blue. His eyes uncrossed from where they were attempting to focus on the finger against his lips and fixed her with a questioning look. Satisfied with his attention, Ladybug slowly removed her hand.

(The sensation of her suit material sliding against sensitive skin was filed _deep_ in his memory banks.)

"I'll give you thirty days to woo me," she elaborated, bending close like a child with a secret. "Thirty days to convince me to kiss you. We can meet up outside of battles. We'll go wherever, do whatever you want. No tricks allowed, and no traps. Make me _want_ to kiss you in thirty days, and you can have all the kisses you could ever want. What do you say?"

She pulled back and _grinned_ , stars in her eyes and mischief on her lips and _challenge_ radiating from her very _being_ , and she couldn't have hit him harder if she'd sucker punched him in the solar plexus.

Undone and unthinking and _wanting_ , he whispered — or croaked, really — "You're _on._ "

* * *

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a superhero in possession of a beautiful teammate must be in want of a love story.

And maybe, _just_ maybe, Chat was about to get one.


	2. Chapter 2

To her credit, Marinette got all the way home before she screamed.

Tikki sprang free of the ring in a flash of pink light to congratulate her holder on the battle well fought—

"Well done, Marinette! You did such a good—"

—and was met with a worryingly pale teenager.

That was not the face of a superheroine victorious.

"Um... Marinette?" Tikki tried. She'd been expecting a little bit of a meltdown once the challenge Marinette had issued to Chat sank in, but this was looking dangerously like shock. Her chosen's complexion was edging towards _green._

"I... I asked him to..." Marinette croaked.

 _Oh dear._ Tikki had always suspected _something_ would come of Ladybug and Chat Noir's partnership one day (it was common enough, and these two were made for each other), but... perhaps not as explosively as this.

"He said he..." Marinette scrubbed a hand through her hair, rendering her pigtails unrecognizable in seconds as she paced. "He— he said...!"

Tikki bobbed gently in the air and watched in silence, thinking it would be best to give Marinette a few moments to work through things on her own.

"A-a-and I said...!" Marinette gestured violently at the empty space before her (and, presumably, at her perceived sins). "Why?! Why did I say _that?!_ "

Tikki had to hide a smile. She had her theories as to "why".

"And he just—! And I just—!" Marinette ran out of viable words to describe the situation and released a sharp burst of frustrated noise. Then, when that wasn't enough, she took three staggering steps to the right, keeled over onto her lounge, covered her face with a pillow, and _screamed._

With a heavy sigh, Tikki waited out the scream, only to squeak and dive for cover when the girl's mother called up in concern from the base of the stairs.

Marinette took a momentary break from screaming to yell back an assurance, before letting loose another, quieter shout into her pillow.

Once it seemed the storm had passed, Tikki cautiously drifted close. "Better?" she ventured, sympathetic.

Marinette popped up like a spring daisy — if spring daisies had mottled flushes and panic-pinched eyes.

"He said he wanted to k-k-k— _Tikki!_ " She whipped around, locks fluttering in the breeze and hair getting more dishevelled by the second. "I said 'make me want to!' What is _wrong_ with me?!"

Now this she could answer!

Tikki took a breath to tell Marinette that there was nothing wrong with her, these things just happened sometimes, but Marinette cut her off.

"'Well, hey there, Ladybug!'" she mocked, an edge of hysteria creeping into her voice as she held up a hand and 'talking' with it. An imitation of Chat, most likely. "'I've actually been trying to get you to notice me for the past two years, you oblivious _dumbass!_ '"

"Aw, Marinette," Tikki managed to interject. "I'm sure he doesn't think tha-"

"'Wow, Chat Noir!'" Marinette steamrollered on, yanking her other hand from under the pillow and using it to symbolize herself. "'I never would have guessed! Here—'" She brought her two talking hands together until the fingertips almost touched "'—let me get in your face and dare me to make me fall in love with you in a month! It's not like I'm wasting a ton of your time because I'm not actually interested in you or anything!'"

Tikki took in the flustered mess of a teenage girl and thought, _I wonder._

Aloud, she said, "It's not _so_ bad..."

Marinette gave her an exceptionally flat look and made more talking motions with her 'Ladybug' hand. "'By the way, let's meet up _tomorrow_ for patrol. What's patrol? We don't know yet, but we'll figure it out! It's not like our enemies just show up wherever and whenever they want to and then announce their thieving intentions to the world or anything.'"

"Look on the bright side," Tikki suggested, ever the optimist. "It might be fun!"

(How much fun patrol _would_ be, Tikki didn't know; but she knew these two, and she was sure they'd find a way to make it useful.)

(...It remained to be seen how much damage there'd be to clean up afterwards.)

Marinette sagged, letting her head fall back onto the pillow with a quiet _fwump!_ Tikki thought she could make out something like _I'm going to die_ from the ensuing moan.

She hovered by the fluffy, disheveled head of her holder in silent solidarity and idly wondered if Plagg's human was taking the arrangement any better.

* * *

"Patrol, patrol, patrol, patrol, patrol..." Adrien muttered feverishly, pacing the length of his room with the entire contents of his wardrobe laid out around him. "What should I wear to patrol?"

Plagg, cheese in hand (a bribe of silence the kwami had been perfectly happy to take), surveyed the damage.

Romance novels had been taken down from the upper shelves of Adrien's collection and scattered around the room, mostly piled on and around the bed. Clothing was strewn haphazardly over and between the books, over the couch, and on arcade machines — and included everything from dress shirts to parachute pants. Magazines (ordered online only hours earlier) lay only half-unpacked from the industrial sized boxes they'd been delivered in, adding to the chaos of the mess.

Plagg tossed the cheese up and devoured it in one gulp — if there was no bribe, there was no need for silence; let it never be said that Plagg was a dishonorable cat — then floated down to his holder's eye level, dodging a flying Vogue centerfold spread on his way down.

"Listen, kid," Plagg said, trying to get the kid's attention _before_ he said anything important. Witticisms always lost their shine on the second or third repetition. "I'm not sure what you're planning to wear to patrol, but..."

Adrien looked over his shoulder, holding a Hawaiian polo in one hand and a truly horrendous gold-sequined _body-sock_ in the other. Both had last been seen at the bottom of Adrien's costume trunk, and Plagg wished they'd _stayed_ there and spared the room the reminder of their existence.

"I don't think either of those are gonna help you leap buildings."

The mania that had gripped his charge since they'd gotten back finally seemed to ease. Adrien blinked like he was waking up, then down at the... _garments_ in his hands, then back at Plagg with something like embarrassment.

"...Fine feathers?" he tried, holding up the body-sock.

To his great disgust, Plagg was forced to acknowledge that the purpose of the garish sequins was to outline two cartoony 'angel wings.'

He wasn't, however, forced to deign the excuse with a response, so he didn't.

"It's just a _patrol_ ," he said instead, because, seriously, patrols were one of the most boring things in existence, right after daytime television. "What are you gonna do? Show off your _amazing_ staying-awake skills?"

The glint of mania reentered Adrien's eye.

"Which was a _joke,_ by the way," Plagg tacked on smoothly. "Seriously, kid. _Chill._ "

Adrien sighed heavily, tossing the outfits aside and sitting on the only uncovered corner of his bed.

"I don't have _time_ to chill," he groaned, scrubbing his scalp. "I have a _month._ And I don't have a clue."

Plagg snorted. "You got _that_ right."

"Are you going to _help_ or not?" Adrien snapped, apparently having reached the end of his rope.

Plagg took pity on the kid. He was a good kid who had good morals: he hadn't attempted murder even once thus far in his run as Chat Noir, incidents of possession aside. He even worked together with Ladybug and everything! Most importantly, he was both willing and able to cater to Plagg's cheese cravings. Plagg could spare a little sympathy.

Fishing around in his memory, he suggested, "Buy her flowers or something. Ladybugs love flowers."

The kid, Bast help him, just looked confused. "Don't you mean _girls_ love flowers?"

"No."

(He had never once met a Ladybug that didn't like flowers, and whether that was intentional on the chooser's parts or simple luck, it was a constant that had held true since Mesopotamia — Ladybugs loved flowers.)

When no further elaboration appeared to be forthcoming, Adrien let it go with a quiet sigh. Then, worryingly, he began to grin.

"Plagg, you're a _genius!_ " With that, he leaped to his feet and dove for his phone. _Literally_ dove, as his foot landed on a stray issue of Cosmopolitan, sending both himself and the magazine flying.

Plagg winced.

The kid hit the floor bouncing, like any good cat, but kept moving, snatching up the gadget and swiping impatiently at the screen before he'd even righted himself.

Plagg sighed inwardly. So much left to teach this kitten about grace and poise. And here he'd thought he _wouldn't_ have those problems with a model. This one was nearly as bad as _Heracles._

Still, he watched the proceedings with amusement, trepidation, and affected disinterest.

At the very least, this month was going to be good blackmail material.

* * *

Ladybug arrived to their arranged meeting place exactly five minutes early to find that Chat was already there.

She swallowed her nerves ( _shit, what have I gotten him into_ ), steadied her voice, and greeted him with a cheery, "Hello! Waiting long?"

He whipped around and _are those flowers_ -

"Hello, my lady!" chirped Chat. He attempted to hide the ( _massive_ ) bouquet behind his back and ended up resembling a peacock instead. She didn't know how it had taken her so long to notice the thing. "Looking radiant, as always."

 _What have I gotten_ _ **myself**_ _into?_

"...Thank you."

Ladybug eyed the bright yellow column flower that was drooping squarely between Chat's ears and made the executive decision to ignore the bouquet until he brought it up.

"A-anyway!" Chat stuttered ( _...stuttered?_ ), shifting his weight and avoiding her eye. "I was wondering..."

He trailed off, falling silent and leaving Ladybug to fill in the blanks.

 _...'Wondering?'_ What would Chat be wondering about? The bet? No, they'd sorted that out last time.

But they _hadn't_ sorted out patrol.

"Right," Ladybug said, mystery solved. "I was wondering about patrol too, actually."

"...Uh."

"I mean, what times should we patrol? How often?" Ladybug warmed up to the concept immediately. She helped out whenever she saw citizens in need, but it put her in a crunch on busier days. Having time set aside purely to get out and help would be nice. "Every day might be a bit much, but once a week doesn't sound like enough..."

"...Right, patrol," Chat sighed under his breath. Then, in a normal voice, he said, "What about twice a week? Or three times a week?"

"Three times a week might be hard to swing, once we're back in school," she pointed out, idly wondering why Chat perked up at that. "Two is good."

There was a brief but spirited debate on which days to patrol, after which they tentatively settled on Monday and Thursday evenings — the weekends were no good because of her parents and the bakery, Chat was booked for things just about every day except (oddly) Thursdays, she didn't want to overbook her Fridays but patrol might be just the thing to unwind after Monday stress, _et cetera_.

* * *

"So..." Chat started as Ladybug happily inserted the times into her mental calendar and wondered what she was missing. "About tomorrow—"

"Routes!" Ladybug yelped, accidentally cutting Chat off. "We haven't figured out _where_ we're going to go patrol... Sorry, were you saying something?"

"...Nothing important," he sighed, looking rueful. He shifted his weight again and the bouquet wrapping crinkled. "I think we should try to check up on the banks at the times we're patrolling."

Ladybug tore her eyes away from the gargantuan floral arrangement (it was like _three Chats across_ , how had he even gotten it here?) and dragged him into another debate, this time on their patrolling goals and how best (and where best) to achieve them.

* * *

The sun had sunk well below the horizon before they managed to sort any of it out, and they'd been forced to move to the golden light of a nearby open-air café.

Ladybug slammed her third cup of hot chocolate down and sighed. "Maybe we should just... agree to disagree."

"We could do alternating days? Your route Monday and my route Thursday?" Chat offered, and gulped down the rest of his mocha. It was his first mocha but his fifth drink — and every drink had been different, except for the single constant of being very caffeinated. Ladybug had long since given up wondering where it all _went._ "Or we could just wander around the city until we figure it out."

The bouquet sat in the third seat like a royal guest of honor, or maybe sagged like an exhausted third wheel. Ladybug could empathize.

More out of resignation than because she thought it was a good idea, Ladybug conceded with, "Yeah, wandering sounds good."

Chat beamed, horribly chipper. His ears were only now beginning to twitch with the sheer volume of stimulants he'd ingested.

Ladybug harrumphed.

She was confident they'd come to the same conclusion eventually (they usually did), but in the meantime...

"Pat-rollll," Chat cooed, stretching his arms above is head and rocking his chair back to an heart-stopping angle.

Ladybug hooked her ankle around the bottom rung and slammed him back down before he could fall and crack his head open or something.

"Careful!" she hissed.

Chat looked horribly unrebuked. He used the momentum she'd given him to slide forward on his elbows, squishing up his grinning face with his knuckles and just... _beaming at her._

Against her will, Ladybug felt her heart pitter-patter.

"Don't give me that look," she sniped, readjusting her tenuous grip on her annoyance.

"Hello," he singsonged through the grin, stretched half across the table and not budging an inch.

"...Hi," said Ladybug at her flattest.

"You're cute," he continued, not sarcastic or insincere in the least, and folded his arms on the table to look up at her through pale eyelashes with his most charming grin.

She choked on her tongue.

 _Cute?_

"Wh-wha...?" she squeaked, feeling heat crawl up the back of her neck. _Nonononono, don't_ _ **blush**_ _at this idiot._ " _Chat!_ "

"Will you go on a date with me?"

Ladybug blinked. Nervous giggles bubbled up in her throat, more surprised than amused.

Chat's ears drooped, and her gut clenched. He started to withdraw, glancing around as if for escape. "S-sorry, I've just been trying to ask all day, and I thought, because of the bet..."

The bet.

She'd _forgotten about the bet._

She narrowly avoided smacking the heel of her palm against her forehead.

How could she have _forgotten about the bet?_

"Of course," she said, interrupting the stream of babble and leaning forward to mirror his position. She couldn't quite bring herself to tap his nose, though she wanted to, and just gave him a little grin instead. "It... it sounds like fun."

Hearing Chat's sharp intake of breath made her realize that she was close enough to hear it, and she jerked back, feeling her cheeks and forehead grow as hot as her neck.

She was still able to hear him swallow.

"G-great!" Chat exhaled shakily, grinning bright and relieved, and Ladybug's stomach clenched.

 _Nope, nope, nope, not doing this now, nope-_

"So!" she said, a tad too loud. She pushed through her embarrassment and continued in a much more normal tone, "What's with the flowers?"

Inwardly, she started banging her head against the nearest hard surface. _Of all the subject changes in the world..._

Chat - and there was no other word for it, really - _bounced_ up, approaching the third member of their party with a motion that was more up-and-down than horizontal momentum.

Ladybug eyed the selection of empty cups scattered across the table and wondered if she should've stopped him at two.

Gathering up the bundle of flora, he took two steps and knelt at her feet, presenting her with the bouquet as he did so. From somewhere behind the monstrous arrangement, Chat cleared his throat.

"This is a poor tribute to your beauty, my lady, but I offer it with... with an open—"

"Pffft!"

"...My lady?"

Ladybug scooped the flowers up, battling giggles as she did so. "I love it. _Thank you_."

Chat had to help her, and she had to hold it at an awkward angle over her shoulder if she wanted to see around it, but finally she officially received her gift.

"...Maybe a smaller one next time..." Chat mused, touching a slightly wilted bloom with a small wince.

(' _Next time,_ ' her brain happily echoed, dancing around the thought and making her ears flush too, to her distress.

She'd expected him to ask her out! She'd expected him to get her flowers! Why, oh _why_ did she keep _blushing?!_ )

"So, date!" And _wow_ she continued to pick just the _best_ changes of subject! "Does tomorrow work for you?"

And _why on earth_ did she pick _tomorrow?_ There was _no way_ she'd be prepared by tomorrow! In any way!

Chat looked a little caught off guard ( _welcome to the party, partner — we have drinks and a weighty sense of impending doom_ ), but rallied admirably. He dropped a little bow. "But of course! Dinner at eight?"

"That sounds lovely," said Ladybug's mouth. Her limbs forced her into a jerky bow around the bouquet. "Meet at the Eiffel Tower?"

It was _laughable_ just how much easier this was than sorting out patrol. Sort of like pushing a car that wouldn't start uphill, and then letting it roll downhill only to realize it didn't have any brakes and there was a mother with a stroller crossing the street right in front of it.

"I'll see you there," he assured her with one of his ridiculous bows, this one even more flourished than they normally were.

 _Oh god, this is ridiculous._

Off in the distance, church bells rang.

Ladybug veritably pounced on the excuse. "And with that, I'd better get these flowers home."

Chat sprang out of his bow, looking a little put out. "But, patrol...?"

She shot a meaningful glance at the excess of plant matter in her arms, and he looked sheepish.

"R-right."

She took pity.

"Maybe no more flowers on patrol," she suggested wryly, smiling, and she swore Chat _blushed._

Right, nope, didn't need to think about that.

Three hasty steps backward and a "So, I'll see you tomorrow!" just earned her another smile ( _ugh_ ) and a wave.

"Tomorrow," Chat promised, warm and bright and _happy_ and Ladybug needed to leave right now, immediately.

So, after stumbling another five steps back and lassoing a nearby parapet, she did.

(She stopped halfway home to properly examine the gorgeous flowers, burying her face in the delicate petals and breathing in the intoxicating perfume to try to distract herself from her racing thoughts.

The only thing it did was bring Chat's hope, Chat's feelings, Chat's _smile_ to the forefront of her mind.

Really, _what had she gotten them into?_ )


	3. Chapter 3

The date was the perfect set up... for an unmitigated disaster.

The bulk of Adrien's planning occurred somewhere between 1 A.M. and 6 A.M., during which he booked no less than three restaurants for the same timeslot — or attempted to, anyway, but not many restaurants were open at that hour. He was forced to put that idea on hold for a later, _lighter_ hour.

His plan also divided the entire date evening into twenty minute sections from 6 P.M. to midnight. Each slot was packed with a wide variety of date-ish activities, none of them scheduled to allow for commuting or waiting in line, that ranged in idiocy from swimming right after dinner to going to the arcade an hour after it closed.

Between the hours of 6 A.M. and _8_ A.M., he drafted up the perfect date algorithm, which — when he looked at it with a clear head afterwards — solved simply and easily to a nonsensical '13.6', but in his state of panicked sleep deprivation, he forgot to carry a negative somewhere, and ended up with 13.6 _flowers_ , which he deemed the optimal number of flowers to give.

(This would have probably gone over better if he'd rounded the number; in the end, he assembled a bouquet that had thirteen normal roses and one that had two fifths of its petals shaved off at an angle.)

Hours 8 A.M. through 12 P.M. were occupied composing verse in iambic pentameter to Ladybug's heroic figure and courageous deeds... but at some point Adrien realized he was lifting lines from Shakespeare and was no longer in iambic pentameter, and quit.

After that, he spent a solid three hours frantically texting Alya about 'hypothetical' date ideas and steadfastly ignoring her theories about his reasons, getting almost no help whatsoever but laughing the entire time, which was a welcome break from hopeless, panicked plotting.

At 3:12 P.M. exactly, he realized that he'd never made any of the reservations he'd planned to make. The only restaurant still accepting reservations was his last choice, and he only managed to get a balcony view, not a back room or a terrace like he'd hoped.

That took about twenty minutes, after which he went on to fuss over his appearance for no less than three hours, which was how long it took for Plagg to argue him down to just a tie over the suit and rhinestones on his cuffs.

At 6:30 P.M., 13.6 flowers in hand, Chat headed to their meeting place.

The date was doomed to disaster from the very start.

* * *

Okay, so, all things considered, maybe it _hadn't_ been the best idea to meet up on the Eiffel Tower.

It was _windy_.

Chat turned his back to the wind to protect the second bouquet he'd gotten his lady in as many days, and went over what he'd do once she got there one last time.

He'd greet her. He would be smooth and casual. Simple, but not too simple. Interested, but not overbearing. It had to be _perfect._

 _Hello, my lady._

Perfect.

Then, he'd give her the flowers. He had thirteen roses of varying shades of red, pink, and white, because twelve plain red roses as a gift was laughably overdone. Thirteen was better than twelve, and he was fairly certain Ladybug liked pink. He couldn't eliminate red roses _entirely_ (because they were still the flower of love), and he couldn't have just red and pink roses (because when left alone together, they clashed horribly), so white was added.

Perfect.

Smothering a yawn, he debated the next stage of their meeting.

Depending on how well the flowers went over, he might make a reference to them being a poor tribute to her beauty, which was what he'd _meant_ (but forgotten) to say over last night's gift.

He was just debating how to best suggest they get going (or, no, ask how her day was first — that part was important, even if neither of them could reveal much because of their secret identities), when a distant scream reached his ears on a particularly powerful gust of wind.

" _Watch out!_ "

Chat looked up just in time to catch two full rotations of his lady tumbling through the air, a flash of her panicked face, and then everything went sideways.

Ladybug hit him full-speed in the chest, winding him hard. He twisted frantically around her to try to get between her and the ground, only to be thwarted by the wild tumble she'd pulled him into. The only corner of his mind that wasn't screaming _fight or flee but protectprotectprotect_ noticed when Ladybug tossed her yo-yo, but didn't fully register the consequences until the line snapped tight around his ribs.

There was a long moment of the line pinning ladybug's chest to his, crushing the air out of his lungs, the world spinning wildly around them as they swung. Then, slowly, the world came into focus.

Or rather, _Ladybug_ came into focus.

She blinked her two huge blue eyes at him so close they looked like one huge blue eye.

"Well, _hello_ there," said Chat, entirely unable to help himself. "Nice of you to _drop in._ "

Ladybug's single huge blue eye went from apologetic to flatly unamused, and Chat felt chuckles warm his chest.

Except...

 _Wait! No! He had a plan! This wasn't the plan!_

Ladybug turned her head to sigh. Chat felt the rush of air against his cheek anyway, and his heart did a little jig. "Sorry Chat, the wind screwed up my... um. What are you doing?"

He was trying to work his arm free of the string so he could hand her the flowers, actually, but Chat suddenly realized that in his desperation to shield Ladybug, he'd let the roses go. All he had left to give her was a sheepish grin.

Unsurprisingly, she did not take that wonderful opportunity to confess her everlasting love to him and kiss him stupid (which was a pity, because it was _always_ an excellent time for it, in Chat's opinion). She just huffed, managed to look even _less_ amused, and started lowering them to the ground.

Feet back on solid pavement, Chat rediscovered the bouquet — or what was left of it, anyway. Most of the roses had shed too many petals upon the fall to be considered viable gifts anymore. The one trimmed rose had been destroyed entirely.

He picked the bundle up anyway and found a few of them had survived the fall mostly unscathed. Maybe he could take those and rearrange the packaging...?

"What's up?" Ladybug wanted to know, wandering over to peek around his side. "More flowers?"

"Well... They were intended to be a gift, but..." He showed her the extent of the damage with a wince. "Maybe not."

She glanced up at him before letting her gaze slide away, actually apologetic this time. "...Sorry."

"S'alright." He could probably work the ribbon binding free with his claws, then use it to twist the surviving roses into a crown or something...

"Um..." Ladybug straightened and fidgeted, stepping away to a more normal distance. "Actually..."

Chat mourned the loss of her body heat, but stopped fiddling with the bouquet and gave her his full attention. "Hm?"

She focused on digging around in her pack, the tips of her ears going red ( _red?_ ). "I, um, have something..." She apparently found what she was looking for, because she paused, biting her lip. "...Something for you."

Chat was hooked. He went from her flushed ears to the fascinating dimples her teeth left in her plush lip to her hand, still half-buried in her pouch, and cocked his head.

She shifted again, straightening, smiled a not-quite-casual smile, and handed him...

She handed him a flower.

Chat stared at the gift, feeling some unnameable emotion start to well up in his chest, in the back of his throat. Ladybug began to babble.

"I-I mean, I just thought, because of the flowers you gave me last time, I should probably... But I couldn't figure out how to get a whole bouquet here, and I didn't want to regift your gift, and the only flowers that were blooming right now were daisies anyway, and... Oh, this is such a stupid—"

"I love it," Chat choked out, throat too tight and face too hot. "It's _perfect._ "

It was respectably sized, for a daisy. The bloom was a little smaller than his palm, the petals a clear, healthy white. There were leaves clinging to the stem, dark green and lively. It was innocent and lovely and something _Ladybug_ had given _him_ , and it was swelling Chat's heart until it was fit to burst.

"Ack!" said Ladybug. She made a grab for the flower, and Chat, panicked at the thought of losing it, yanked it out of her reach. "Chat, no, don't cry, I'm so sorry— I'll get you a better one! I-I didn't think—!"

"No!" he yelped, dancing out of the way of her attempts to reclaim _his gift_. His. The gift _Ladybug_ had given to _him_. "It's mine and it's perfect and I _love it_."

Then he had to stop and scrub at his suspiciously damp eyes.

Ladybug looked downright horrified, hands halting in midair as she paused in her attempt to steal what was _rightfully his._

"And I'm not crying!" Chat defended, somewhat futilely as he clutched the precious, precious flower to his chest. "It—it's dust! Allergies! To pollen!"

Ladybug looked even more horrified, and Chat belatedly realized that he'd inadvertently implied that her gift was to blame.

"To roses!" he tacked on, several seconds too late, only to realize he was pinning the blame on a flower he'd been in close contact with all evening without issue.

Ladybug stared.

Chat stared back before the daisy drew his eye again. It was just so...

He didn't have words for the feeling it gave him.

What they were doing was a dare, a challenge to get her to kiss him in thirty days. And yet here she was, trying (however haltingly) to meet him halfway.

"It's... I love it," he repeated helplessly, wondering how he could make her understand what he couldn't put words to, but was sitting in his chest, warm and weighty.

Her face softened.

"Right," she said, taking a breath and letting it out slowly. "You're... You're welcome."

Silence reigned while Chat got his emotions back under control (at least outwardly). Once he was breathing normally again, Ladybug changed the subject.

"Anyway, were we going to have dinner? I'm starving."

"We are," Chat confirmed.

Except...

How did they get to the restaurant from here, anyway?

Chat panicked for a good three seconds, before it occurred to him that his staff had a navigator he could use.

He juggled the bouquet and the daisy for a moment without success, eventually tucking the bouquet into the crook of his arm and the daisy behind his ear (it would be safe there, he reasoned), then pulled out his staff and searched for their destination.

(It never ceased to amaze him that his millennia-old weapon worked just about the same as his iPhone, apps and all. Just how much _did_ kwami evolve with the times, anyway?)

"And dinner is _this_ way," he said like a true authority, turning on his heel to face the restaurant through a maze of buildings. He shut the navigator and offered Ladybug his arm. "Ready to go?"

She shot him a wry look as she hooked her arm through his. "...Did you forget where it was?"

He jolted guiltily. "Nnnn... Maybe?"

With her free hand, Ladybug straightened his flower and tapped his nose, grinning affectionately. "Dork."

Chat smothered a yawn with a huff and pretended he wasn't _glowing_ from the inside out.

* * *

"So why are we doing this again?"

"I'm _telling_ you, Nino. It was fishy. He was... _cagey._ "

"Oh no. My bro has a date. Oh no. Whatever will we do."

Alya, apparently not willing to rehash the argument for the fifth time, swiped her screen in brisk strokes, rapidly switching through her chat apps, social media apps, maps, and back. " _Shh!_ I've almost cracked it."

"I mean," said Nino, well aware he was talking to himself, "it's not even like Marinette's still crushing on him. Why does it _matter_ if he has a date with a hot model or something?"

" _Because,_ " Alya said, highlighting a text from Mylene and switching back to her map. "If it was just a hot model, he'd have _said so_. He's _keeping secrets_ from us, Nino!"

"You realize he isn't obligated to tell us everything about his life, right?"

Alya took one hand away from her phone for long enough to flap it in clear dismissal, then went right back to her rapid-fire investigating.

Nino sighed and pulled out his own phone. Pokemon Go wasn't going to play itself. He'd caught more Pokemon in the past five hours than he'd had an opportunity to in his whole run so far, which was one of the very few upsides to being dragged around the city by his insane girlfriend on a quest to invade his best bro's privacy.

(The other upsides being, of course, spending the day with said girlfriend and the prospect of seeing said best bro. Lunch hadn't been so bad either.)

"Oh, hey," he said, looking up. "There's a Ledyba."

"Do we have to stop _now_ —"

"...And a Ladybug."

"—huh?"

Nino raised his phone, showing her the bug-flying Pokemon bouncing next to Paris' one-and-only superheroine, who was standing in line for falafel with Chat Noir. Both heroes were (oddly enough) bedecked in flowers — Chat Noir with a daisy behind his ear and Ladybug with a crown of roses.

Alya grabbed his forearm in an iron grip.

Nino screenshotted the scene and wisely handed his phone over before before Alya could rip it away in excitement.

"Change of plans," said Alya, nose glued to the screen, and Nino mouthed the words along with her, smiling. "Adrien's mystery date can wait."

Well, hey. Tangible goals that weren't likely to make his best friend feel utterly betrayed and that involved Ladybug and (more importantly) Chat Noir? Sign Nino up.

"How do you feel about falafel for dinner?" he suggested, holding a hand out for his phone.

Alya dropped it in his palm and grabbed his arm, snuggling up against his side and kissing his cheek. "You know me so well."

Thusly suited as a couple young and in love (which they kind of were), they crossed the street and got in line behind the supers.

* * *

Chat wondered, desolately, how one person could screw up so _badly_.

The restaurant had completely failed to record his reservation.

One _badly_ trained phone attendant, one rude, unapologetic manager, and Chat had been forced to reconsider his stance on not snapping at service workers, even if the mess was half his fault in the first place.

He'd _known_ the restaurant had terrible service. The only reason it had made it onto his list at all was that the food was good and it was right next to the movie theater.

And yet he'd still called.

He sighed deeply.

"Come on," coaxed Ladybug, straightening the bouquet-turned-crown on her head and resting a hand on his shoulder as they waited in line at a nearby falafel stand instead. "It wasn't your fault they screwed up. This could have happened to anyone."

Admitting that Nathalie had muttered several choice words when attempting to schedule a meeting between his father and an investor there felt like admitting too much, so Chat sighed and only said, "Should've known better."

"And I haven't had real falafel in _ages_ ," she added, apparently determined to ignore his moroseness. "Not from here, anyway."

A yawn interrupted Chat's brooding, reminding him of the dull, throbbing headache building behind his eyes in spite of the suit.

Five coffees was too many coffees.

Ladybug pointedly nudged his side with an elbow and Chat shook off the haze, jostling the flower still tucked behind his ear. He straightened it and let his ears catch up with him.

"You've been here before?" he asked, looking around the place with renewed interest.

It was a small indie imitation of a middle-eastern chain restaurant, open air and a little run down. The awning was a faded forest green stripes and the seating was wrought iron and everything smelled of hot oil and exotic spices. It looked like the kind of place that would sell you grease disguised as food and charge you double for it; like the kind of place you'd stop at in the middle of an adventure in the concrete jungle when you were sweaty and exhausted and having a good time.

"My family used to come here a lot when I was small," she said, stepping up in line as the people in front of them moved on. She smiled fondly at the sparse collection of tables. "Maman loved it. She used to swear by these sandwiches. We used to always get these before going to a movie."

He couldn't decide if it was incongruous or perfectly natural to find that pieces of Ladybug's history resided here. It was dirty and alive and _honest;_ it wasn't anything he'd been expecting, but then what _had_ he been expecting, if not this?

One more smothered yawn and they moved up in the line again.

"So what happened?" Chat asked, hoping he wasn't pressing too hard, but every nugget of information she gave him felt precious, and he couldn't help but long for more. "Why not anymore?"

She cocked her head, flower crown sliding dangerously to the side. "Nothing much. Our schedules changed, and we didn't really have the time to go out for dinner and a movie as a family anymore."

Chat's heart clenched in sympathetic nostalgia. "That's too bad."

"Yeah..." Ladybug glanced at him, then back out at her memories. Then she snorted. "I'm glad they won't recognize me, though."

Chat made a face, thinking of all the times he'd spoken to his father and Nathalie and classmates in costume and they hadn't showed an inkling of suspicion — and his whole profession _required_ him to be pretty and recognizable. "It... might not make much of a difference, either way."

Ladybug also made a face, though hers was more scowl than wince. "I _hope_ so."

The people in front of them walked away with their call number before Chat could ask just what embarrassing stories from her past this place held, and the two stepped up to order.

* * *

Two falafel sandwiches and a bowl of fruit later, he and Ladybug were sitting in silence on the high stone wall surrounding the eating area, legs dangled over the city-side edge.

"Your turn," Ladybug said, right before said silence could get awkward. "What did you do with your family when you were small?"

Chat paused mid-bite, pondering how best to answer that question. He chewed and swallowed slowly, then admitted, "Not... much."

"C'mon, there has to have been _something,_ " she laughed, then stopped abruptly and shot him an alarmed look. "If... If you _have_ a family, I mean. You _do_ have a family, right?"

"I do," Chat confirmed, suppressing a little snicker at her open-mouth-insert-foot moment, and then a little yawn at his own sleep deprivation. "We just... never did much?"

'My father is really overprotective and micromanages my life and my mother was almost completely bedridden for years after my birth, and once she got better she up and left rather than deal with my father's personality, but couldn't take me along and ended up having to fight like hell for _visitation rights_ , let alone the ability to take me anywhere, then she _really_ disappeared and my father shut down completely' was kind of heavy for a first date, Chat thought.

He dug around in his memory anyway, pushing aside the thrill the thought ' _first_ date' brought on.

"We went to a lot of fashion shows," he finally decided on, and Ladybug's face finally relaxed. "They were both in the industry, so there were a lot of rival companies' shows to attend and stuff."

She folded her legs up to her chest and pulled a croquette out of her sandwich to pop in her mouth, embarrassment fading into keen interest. "Fashion?"

"My mom spent a lot of time pulling me out of the makeup stations," Chat said, and took another bite of his own sandwich. "I loved drawing on the walls with cosmetics. I think I got us thrown out of a venue with that once."

Ladybug giggled and licked sauce off the corner of her mouth before responding.

(Chat absolutely did not stare, except that he might have, just a little.)

"That must have been..." She trailed off, frowning at the horizon. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

There was a distant roar, followed by distant screaming, followed by another roar and what might have been a villainous declaration, but was so far away it was unintelligible.

"...That."

Chat stared mournfully at the sandwich he'd only just started and sighed. "Yup."

It was just his luck, really. Had he really expected his broken-mirror streak to end just because she'd finally accepted? After he'd cornered her into it, no less?

"C'mon," said Ladybug encouragingly after a moment's hesitation and a soft sigh of her own, jumping down to the ground. "The sooner we get started, the sooner we'll beat it."

Chat set his sandwich down on the wall and swallowed down his disappointment. _And the sooner his time with her would be over._

"Let's go," he agreed at length, and joined her.

* * *

The akuma was a doozy, and by the time they defeated it, the movie premiere Chat had bought VIP tickets to was already over.

Ladybug felt bad for the waste (how much had those tickets _cost_ him?), but there wasn't much either of them could do. At that point, Chat had seemed surprised she even wanted to try.

(Like she'd skip out on the rest of the date because of some measly akuma. This was the most fun she'd let herself have in ages.)

One quick retransformation on her part later and they were standing in the theater, looking for a replacement showing.

Ladybug glanced over at a drooping Chat, who'd come so far and tried so hard, and knocked her shoulder against his.

"C'mon, let's go see this one instead."

He looked up, following the line of her finger to an old showing of her favorite zombie camp movie, then back at her, heartbreakingly exhausted.

"You sure?" he asked, or tried to, before he was cut off by his fifth jaw-cracking yawn of the evening.

(There had been many other, smaller yawns, but Ladybug had long since lost count of those.

 _Had he slept at all last night?_ she found herself worrying, not for the first time.)

"I love it," Ladybug insisted, and hooked her arm through his, steering him over to the ticket booth.

She felt his gaze on the side of her face as she quietly requested two tickets to what would doubtlessly be the emptiest showing in the timeslot, and ducked to hide her warming cheeks.

She thought she was about to get away with paying for something for once (that bouquet _couldn't_ have been easy on Chat's finances — either of them) when Chat startled out of his daze, scrambling for his wallet before she could hand her cash over to the starstruck cashier.

Ladybug accepted her defeat (if he tried to buy anything else for her tonight, she'd have to have _words_ , but these were five euros a ticket) and, together, they entered the movie theater.

* * *

Ladybug stretched in her seat with a happy sigh as the lights came back on.

 _That_ had been a good movie. Sometimes a girl just wanted to watch a survival horror film to remind her that her own life wasn't so bad while fictional heads got blown up.

Ladybug had simple needs.

Chat, she assumed, also had simple needs, which probably involved being unconscious for at least part of his 24-hour cycle, which was why she was very glad her plan to stick them in the very back row of a darkened, empty theater with nothing but mindless gore to distract them had worked.

Chat was out like a light.

She leaned over, smothering a giggle at the sprawl of his limbs.

He looked younger in sleep, less deceptively mysterious-looking superhero and more sloppy, sleep-deprived teenage boy, with his mouth falling gently open and the edge of the seat leaving imprints on his cheek.

She poked the exposed side of his face.

"Hey, Chat," she whispered, getting a slight twitch of the nose for her troubles. She poked him again. "C'mon, the movie's over."

A sleepy grumble and a little shift and Chat showed no signs of waking.

Ladybug paused, one finger of her scarlet glove hovering over his cheek, and wondered if she even wanted him to.

He looked so _peaceful_ like this, after a long day of nothing going like he'd planned it.

(She had eyes, thanks — even if she'd had a great time, Chat had worried straight through it.)

It wouldn't be _that bad_ to just... leave him be, would it?

An usher appeared at the end of the isle, looking nervous and apologetic.

"I-I'm sorry, miss, um, Ladybug, but we need to, um, c-close the theater?"

Guess it would be that bad.

She smiled at the usher, wondering how she was going to get Chat out of here without waking him. "Okay. Sorry for taking up your time."

She still didn't want to wake him, though.

What could she do?

* * *

The answer, she finally determined, was a piggyback ride.

Her plan went like this: she'd sling him over her back and carry him to the park, where she would wait with him on a bench until he woke up to make sure nothing happened to him while he slept.

It may have been a good way to let Chat sleep, but it turned out that it was _not_ a good way to traverse the city. She couldn't yo-yo anywhere with that much weight precariously balanced on her back, which left... walking.

Which meant a worryingly slow journey through some of the more tourist-infested (camera- and social-media-infested) parts of town with her defenseless partner on her back. If she ever wanted to paint big, bright red targets on both of their backs for Hawkmoth's perusal...

(It also meant Chat's steady heartbeat thumping against her back and hot breath puffing into the sensitive hollow beneath her ear, but she was _firmly_ not thinking about that.)

Despite her trepidation, though, the only ambushes they were subjected to were those from worried Parisians.

A stall owner stopped them with a frantic 'does he need an ambulance?' then, after she explained, handed her packaged snacks 'on the house,' with a cheerful, relieved thanks to the both of them for doing so much for Paris.

A little girl in a stroller panicked over Chat's state, and refused to calm down until Ladybug crouched down and told her that Chat forgot to take his afternoon nap, so now she had to go help him find his parents, to the mother's amused concern and quiet offers of assistance.

A group of thugs on a street corner expressed similar sentiments, threatening faces pulled into concerned frowns as they fussed over Chat from a safe distance.

"I'm glad he's all right," was the most oft repeated phrase Ladybug heard that night. "Don't know what we'd do without you kids. Thank you."

As she set him down on the park bench she'd chosen, Ladybug wondered what Chat, with his sidekick jokes and constant self-sacrifice, would think of all those worried looks melting into fond smiles when she explained that her partner was just sleeping — what he would think if he knew how near-universally he was adored.

He'd sprawled out in his sleep again, head lolling over the back of the bench, mouth open and each inhale grating out a tiny snore.

 _Silly kitten._

He was going to get a crick in his neck like that.

Tugging him down to sleep in her lap would probably be too much, but...

Ladybug scooted closer on the bench until their thighs were nearly touching, and, after a moment's hesitation, cupped the back of his head, bringing it to rest on her shoulder.

There.

He'd probably still get a crick in his neck, but it wouldn't be as bad now, she thought, ignoring the blond fluff tickling her own neck. It did mean she'd signed herself on to be a human pillow for the next hour or so (she'd wake him up if he slept that long), but that was okay. She'd text her parents and let them know she'd be out later than she thought.

After all, what else were partners for, if not for things like this?

Firing off a text to her mother, she rested her cheek on top of Chat's head, closed her eyes, and settled in to wait.

* * *

Getting derailed from trying to solve the mystery of Adrien's secret girlfriend turned out to be more rewarding than Alya could've _dreamed_.

Ladybug and Chat Noir were, for all appearances, on a _date_.

Alya could barely contain the urge to squeal.

She and Nino had lost them for a bit during the akuma attack, but had caught back up on the walk to the park (and _oh_ what a walk it had been; she had _so many pictures_ ), and now...

Now...

Now they were _sleeping together_ , resting against one another in the soft light of a street lamp, _still_ wearing their flowers.

Alya was having trouble. Alya was having a _lot_ of trouble. She'd lost track of the sheer number of blog post drafts she'd made on the edge of hyperventilating.

Paris' mysterious heroes, their protectors, acting like two teenagers on a date.

With each other.

Alya had had her doubts, but she felt like this proved that there really _was_ a god somewhere out there.

A full report was going _all over_ the Ladyblog. Things like this _needed_ to be documented.

Beside her, Nino yawned.

"C'mon, Alya," he said, slinging an arm around her shoulder. "Let's go home. It's almost midnight."

"Just one more picture," Alya assured him, adjusting her viewfinder for a better shot.

"You said that five pictures ago," he reminded her, more amused than annoyed.

She pecked his cheek, grateful for his patience, and continued to search for the best angle.

Nino sighed and let her go, leaving her cold and mildly confused, but he didn't jostle her, so it was all good.

She focused on the shot, determined to make this one the _best_ one, because Nino was right and it actually was very close to midnight (11:51, her phone read) and they really _should_ be getting home.

And then Nino, like the doofus he was, walked into the shot.

Alya yelped in protest, lowering her phone to give him a piece of her mind, and found him crouching in front of the sleeping heroes.

"Hey," he was saying. "Sorry to disturb you guys, but it's, like, _really_ late..."

Ladybug stirred, blinking fuzzily between Nino's kind smile and Alya's open gaping.

"My girlfriend and me saw you on our walk," Nino said, like they hadn't been stalking the pair for the past three and a half hours or so. "Need any help?"

Ladybug waved him off, and Alya thought she could see her mumbling something — a _thank you but no thank you_ , probably, because Nino followed it up with a nod and a peaceful retreat — and then she started to gently shake Chat awake.

Alya was very, very tempted to throw propriety out the window and start snapping pictures of the sleepy look of pure adoration Chat shot Ladybug, but Nino was there, blocking her vision again.

"Okay," he said, putting his arm back around her shoulders. " _Now_ we can go home."

Reluctantly, Alya supposed she had enough material for a few days, and let herself be led away.

It wasn't like what she already had wasn't going to kill every single one of her readers dead, after all.


End file.
